Vera
by chackers
Summary: Watson comes across a wand. Crack ensues. Slight Holmes/Watson. Written for the Sherlock Holmes kink meme.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Vera

**Author:** Chackers

**Pairings:** Holmes/Watson

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sherlock Holmes or Harry Potter.

**Author's Note:** This is a Sherlock Holmes and HP crack-ish crossover I wrote for the Sherlock Holmes kink meme. The premise was that the pair somehow comes across a wand.

~**~

Chapter One

Watson opened the door tentatively, and stuck a foot in. The hinges squeaked in protest. Before he could slink though the gap, he heard Holmes' voice, sounding rather amused at his pathetic attempt.

"Went gambling today again, Watson?" He was sitting in his favourite chair, violin in hand, bow pointing accusingly at him. "Mary wouldn't approve, _at all_."

He knew that there was no point asking him how he deduced that. It would probably start off a long, smug lecture about the soil on his boots or the jiggle of change in his pockets. God knows his friend's ego was big enough without him stoking it.

"Alright… so I did. But don't tell Mary, I was on a veritable winning streak." Watson walked in, and realized his mistake. He had forgotten to put that nefarious _thing_ away.

He saw the glint in Holmes' eyes whenever he noticed something unusual.

"Oh Watson, you cheeky minx, have you brought home some naughty device to experiment with?"

"Ye… Well, no." Watson stammered, flushing a bright red. "He told me that it was a wand of some sort, capable of powerful magic." He felt like digging himself a hole and hide in there forever. It did not sound this stupid when the cloaked man said it. Even when he had lost all those strange gold coins he had with him, the man, shabby and unshaven, had a certain presence not unlike his friend Holmes.

Said friend stared at him as if he had sprouted another head.

"Are you mad? The man who cheated you is probably either an opportunist profiting from this Blackwood ordeal or very much deranged."

Watson opened and closed his mouth indignantly, trying to think of a retort that would not make him look like a gullible idiot. "He was broke… and starving. You would have done the same."

"I doubt that."

In desperation, he waved the wand around a little.

"Stop it. It makes you look like a fairy --" At that precise moment, sparks flew out from the tip of the wooden stick, cutting Holmes' words short.

Watson looked at his friend with triumph written all over his face, the detective reached out and snatched the stick over.

"I do believe it's nothing but a miniature flamethrower, some well-designed little contraption used in theatre. No doubt." He examined it carefully, as if expecting it to leap up and bite his nose off.

"It apparently responds to Latin." Watson took it from him, eager to try it out.

He attempted to recall the Latin phrases from the classes he had to take in school and came up with none. The professor was dreadfully boring and tended to fall asleep while teaching. The classes turned out to be a riot.

"Ecce Homo!" He tried, waving the wand around experimentally.

Nothing but sparks. Holmes was looking less and less amused by the second.

"Maybe I need some sort of a command," he went to search for his old and tattered Latin dictionary.

"Yes you do, Watson. How about 'Stop this nonsense at once'?"

"Tergeo!" he pointed randomly at the desk, miraculously, some spilt ink was siphoned off at once.

Holmes gasped and grabbed the wand back, looking like a child who had found his favourite toy. "How ingenious!"

"Let's see…" he stroked its mahogany length lovingly.

"Rictusempra!" Holmes shouted while pointing at the dog. _Watson's dog_. A jet of purple light shot out from its tip and hit it. Toby yelped and rolled around desperately, while rubbing himself on the carpet.

"It is a tickling spell!" the detective looked delighted.

Watson had an ominous feeling, and his instincts were never wrong. They kept him alive through the war.

"I shall name it Vera." His friend nodded fondly at the inanimate wand, lying quiet and innocuous in Holmes' hands. "And you shall be my wand."

~**~

**Author's Note:** Was not a crack-ish as I hoped for, but anyway…. Remember to review! Next installment coming up soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Are you done playing around?" Watson groaned.

The house looked as though a typhoon had passed through it. Most of the Latin phrases his friend had tried seemed to have little or no effect, but some certainly had explosive results. One corner of the ceiling was blasted into tiny smoking pieces of rubble due to the_ Confringo_ spell Holmes casted with manic glee.

"Don't be ridiculous, my dear doctor." He reprimanded gently, "Are you suggesting that I might be _enjoying_ this? No! Never! This is all done in the spirit of scientific discovery."

Watson struggled to find his centre of calm, something the army has taught him, in order to deal with intense pain and anguish.

"Evanesco," Holmes muttered. Watson found himself standing in front of his friend without a shred of clothing.

"What have you done?" shrieked Watson, acutely embarrassed at his state of undress. His hands flew to cover his, for god's sake, vital and extremely private parts.

"Oh dear," Holmes said, he did not even bother to feign an apologetic tone. "That was most certainly not supposed to happen; I have absolutely no motive for it to happen, none at all."

Watson stared at his friend with suspicion and as much dignity as he could master, with his hands cupped around his… vital and extremely private parts.

"Look into my eyes." Watson demanded, "I said into my eyes!" Despite his emphasis, that did not stop his friend's eyes from flitting oh-so-casually downwards.

"No need to worry," Holmes reassured him in a not very reassuring way, "I will conjure them back." Watson had a sudden mental image of him being completely naked and covered in red and white stripes. He just hoped they were not horizontal.

"What in god's name is going on?" Mrs. Hudson walked in, looking as though she was about to have an epileptic fit. Holmes froze immediately, arms in the midst of another melodramatic flail. Vera fell to the ground and rolled cunningly beneath the couch, out of the landlady's murderous line of sight.

For some reason, Mrs. Hudson did not seem shocked by the image of a nude Watson in Holmes' bedroom at all.

"I arrive home to find it in ruins and the neighbours crying about a giant silver-y cat prancing about in their premises." She thundered, and Watson attempted to edge away from the scene of the crime as inconspicuous as a naked man could possibly be. Mrs. Hudson was not fooled. "And you, Doctor Watson, you are practically an accomplice! Why do I permit this? Why do I allow myself to be pacified again and again despite your terrible habits--"

"Marie…" Holmes smiled beatifically and focused his big dark eyes on the poor unsuspecting Mrs. Hudson, which always, without fail, stirred strange maternal feelings he most certainly did not deserve. "It was all part of my new… renovation plans, I'm going to make this into a palace befitting of a beautiful queen."

Mrs. Hudson still looked skeptical. "Just give me a moment," Holmes promised, reaching beneath the couch. In a flourish, he revealed a bouquet of red roses. "This is for you."

Mrs. Hudson blushed as she received it. She was slightly flustered and pretending his words had absolutely no effect on him. "Oh, you are the very worst." She gushed, making the statement sound more like a declaration of love.

"You boys have fun," Mrs. Hudson left the room with an ill-concealed giggle.

"See the way I conjured the bouquet? I am now a magician with my trusty Vera by my side." He glanced at Watson playfully, "no need to be jealous, old chum, it is not as if I would leave you for her. You two can always share me; we would have a lot of fun together, won't we?"

It was inevitable that Watson's mind went straight to the gutter, the fact that he was, for some reason, still in his full naked glory, did not help either.

"Colloportus," Holmes muttered to the door, it slammed itself shut.

The evening sun shone through the hole in the ceiling, giving the atmosphere an oddly romantic orange-red tint. Holmes was trying not to trail his gaze on the vast expense of golden skin presented in front of him. The hub bub of the London streets were slowly dying down and the initial playfulness was slowly souring into something distinctly awkward.

"I better get going then." Watson opened the closet doors, searching for a new set of clothing. "Mary shall be expecting me."

Holmes' flinch was barely noticeable.

"Right, of course," he pointed the wand at the door, "Alohomora."

He heard Watson's descent down the stairs as if every footstep was amplified, he could hear its uneven rhythm due to his friend's slight limp. Holmes waited till he was gone.

"Now we would have to repair the damage, Vera."

~**~

**Author's Note:** I know, I know. I don't want it to end this way either. Will attempt to give it a happy ending like all crack fics deserve!! Do review and leave some ideas.


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